UC-NRLF 


GIFT  OF 


HEARTS  EASE 

By  FLORENCE  BELLE  ANDERSON 


OTff-        /     /  /  / 

o  -fad  ^?7Bter 


", 

i?/i         -t- 

* /^yi4^^Uy 


<2 


Copyright  1921 

By  The  Harmonial  Publishers 
4326  Alabama  Street 
San  Diego.  California 


part's 


' 
BY 

FLORENCE  BELLE  ANDERSON'  u 


3  PLUCKED  a  rosebud  for  my  love's  adorn- 
ing, 

Fragrant  and  sweet,  and  fresh  with  pearly 
dew. 

Dear  bud,  so  lovely  in  the  early  morning, 

Surely  no  flower  could  be  as  sweet  as  you. 

I  plucked  a  blossom  in  the  scented  twilight, 
Full  blown,  the  promise  of  the  bud  redeemed. 
It,  too,  was  fair;  in  morningtime  or  moonlight 
Love  has  no  seasons,  each  was  best  it  seemed. 

Love,    you  are  sweet  when   youth    is    full  of 

gladness, 

When  life  is  beckoning  through  her  open  door; 
But  when  in  autumn  life  is  tinged  with  sadness — 
Then  love,  we  need  you,  then  we  need  you 

more. 


(Enttfifonrc 


BATHER,  I  used  to  pray  for  happiness; 

Sorrow  and  pain  I  thought  were  punish- 
ment, 

But  now  I  see,  and  each  dark  day  I  bless — 
They  were  the  growth-times  that  my  Master 
sent. 

I've  seen  the  oak  bend  with  the  mighty  gale 
As  if  its  strength  the  elements  would  dare. 
Fiercely    the    wind    would    tear,    and    madly 

wail — 
But   leave    the    oak     tree     stronger     standing 

there. 

This  now  I  ask:  Send  what  is  best  for  me. 
I  shall  no  longer  pray  the  coward's  prayer; 
If  I  need  pain,   or  grief,  or  poverty, 
Send  it,  O,  Lord,  and  with  it:  strength  to  bear. 


(Eljnto 


(2/HINK  evil,  and  as  sure  as  God  has  wrought, 

Evil  alone  comes  hack  to  you  again. 
Malice  and  envy  sent  on  wings  of  thought 
Are  to  the  sender  boomerangs  of  pain. 

Sow  seeds  of  love,  your  harvest  will  be  sweet- 
ness, 

Sow  seeds  of  hate,  the  law  works  just  as  well. 

You  shape  your  life  from  start  to  its  com- 
pleteness; 

You  are  the  maker  of  your  heaven  or  hell. 

You  have  the  choice    to  make    your  hell  or 

heaven, 

God  leaves  you  free;   He  does  not  interfere. 
But  there  are  laws  He  has  in  justice  given; 
He  watches   you,     but   leaves     your  pathway 

clear. 


Oil)?  OJlttng  (Snb 


A  BREATH  of  life  in  an  atom, 

A  mystery  enshrouding  the  place 
Where  the  Almighty    God  from     His  breath 

and  the  sod 
Made  a  form  full  of  beauty  and  grace; 

A  mind  and  a  soul  and  a  body 

He  gave  to  this  form  called  a  man; 

But  somehow  the  ein  of  the  devil  crept  in 

This  product  of  God's  greatest  plan. 

A  love  and  a  prayer  and  a  yearning 

For  something  unseen  and  unheard; 

A  surging  unrest  for  the  worst  and  the  best — 

And   something    still   deeper   unstirred; 

A  world  and  a  hell  and  a  heaven, 
And  death  as  the  gulf  which  divides; 
To  some  has  the  Buddha  been  given. 
To  others  the  Christ  crucified; 

A  saddening  weakness  for  sinning, 
An  infinite  longing  for  good, 
A  song  in  the  air  and  a  cry  of  despair 
Meet  and  mingle  together.      Oh,  God! 


A  love  that  is  stronger  than  either 

The  sin  or  the  sorrow  or  death; 

One  hope  that  ascends  and  another  that  ends, 

And  another  hope  horn  with  each  breath; 

Great  God!  What  a  thing  is  created! 

This  mixture  of  devil  and  God; 

This  thing  of  the  earth,  by  your  breath  given 

birth; 
This  magnified,  glorified  clod! 

I  speculate,  analyze,  ponder; 
The  world  and  its  wonders  I  scan; 
But  nature  and  God,  and  spirit  and  clod 
Merge  into  this  being  called — Man. 


10 


are  two  travelers  on  a  narrow  way; 
You're  from  the  East,  and  I  am  from  the 
West, 

And  we  have  met,  and  you  salute  and  say: 
"Friend,  travel  on  with  me,  my  way  is  best." 

What  matters  it  the  way  our  footsteps  trend? 
I  question  not  the  way  your  feet  have  trod; 
Our  aims  are  one,  and  at  the  journey's  end 
You'll  meet  your  Allah,  whom  I  call  my  God. 

And  if  Mohammed  show  the  way  for  you 
Then  I'll  rejoice  that  He  has  lived  and  died; 
I'll  learn  from   him — My   friend,   with   vision 

true 
Come  see  my  Light — the  lowly  Crucified. 

There  is  One  Father,  call  Him  what  you  will. 
We    warp    our    souls    with    narrow,     useless 

creeds; 

He  but  requires  that  we  His  way  fulfill; 
That  way  is  truth,    in  thought,    in  word,   in 

deed. 


HI  OTHER  Nature  herself  is  my  teacher; 

I   hear  the  most  wonderful  things; 
At  times  when  I  sit  in  the  silence 
I  think  I  can  hear  angels'  wings. 

I  think  of  the  life  of  the  Master, 
As  He  taught  on  the  hills  and  the  sea, 
With  the  earth  itself  for  His  altar, 
And  the  sky  for  a  blue  canopy. 

His  teachings  were  simple  and  tender; 
When  He  spoke  of  our  Father  above 
It  seemed  to  those  far  away  people 
Just  a  beautiful  message  of  love. 

It's  enough  just  to  know  that  God  loves  me; 

I  pray  to  be  gentle  and  mild 

With  a  charity  broad  in  its  compass, 

And  the  simple,  sweet  faith  of  a  child. 

When  we  get  to  the  top  of  heav'ns  mountain, 
And  view  the  rough  way  we  have  trod, 
We  shall  meet  there,  so  what  does  it  matter. 
Which  pathway  we  find  to  our  God? 


Jffragratw* 


^j  HELD  a  rosebud  in  my  hand  today, 

Thinking  how    dear  life  was;     how  sweet 

and  fair: 

A  message  came  which  swept  my  joy  away, 
Crushed  was  the  lovely  rosebud  lying  there. 

But,  ah!  The  fragrance  of  that  poor,  crushed 

rose! 

Poor  little  flower  that  lay  a  wreck  complete; 
Yet  only  thus  its  perfume  could  disclose — 
I  did  not  dream  it  could  be  quite  so  sweet. 

I,  too,  am  crushed;  it  may  be  by  God's  hand, 
To  make  me  give  my  fullest  sweetness  out. 
Father,  I  am  broken.     Lord,  I  cannot  stand; 
That  it  is  best  for  me  I  will  not  doubt. 

I  am  thy  rose.  Thou  hast  selected  me 
To  teach  a  lesson,  and  thy  way  fulfill. 
If  only  thus  thy  lesson  learned  may  be, 
O,  blessed  Gardener,  crush  me  if  you  will! 


and  useless  are  the  faiths   of 

creed. 
What  have  they  done?     But  view  the  world 

today; 

Men  hating  men,  and  lust  and  selfish  greed 
Struggling  in  hearts  where  love  should  hold 

its  sway. 

We've  turned  from  God.     He  lets  us  have  our 

way, 
And  we  have  learned  how  hard  that  way  has 

been, 

For  just  as  sure  as  night  must  follow  day 
We  reap  in  pain  what  we  have  sown  in  sin. 

I  would  look  deep  and  learn  the  reason  why. 
Would  you  learn  with  me?     Well,  here  is  my 

hand. 

We'll  learn  together,  humbly,  you  and  I — 
Ask  God  to  show  and  make  us  understand. 

We  will  go  back  to  simple  things — to  love; 
We  will  learn  much  but  keep  an  even  mind; 
We  will  seek  wisdom  from  the  realms  above, 
Our  only  creed — Be  true,  be  just,  be  kind. 


14 


IKarma 


Wise  Astrologer,  you've  laid  my  future 
out! 

I  must  admit  that  you  have  wondrous  skill; 
That  much  you  say  will  come,  I  do  not  doubt, 
No  matter  what  I  do,  or  what  I  will. 

I  do  believe  that  I  have  lived  before, 
Perhaps  in  ages  past,  in  foreign  clime, 
And  what  I  did  in  those  dead  days  of  yore 
Is  on  God's  record,  in  His  book  of  time. 

And  I  believe  that  record's  in  the  stars. 
They  show  the  karma  which  I  must  fulfill. 
All  selfish  actions,  and  all  sin  that  mars, 
I  must  transmute;  it  is  th'eternal  will. 

Oh,  yes.     These  stars  point  out  what  I  must 

do 

To  make  my  life  a  finely  balanced  whole, 
Astrologer,  perhaps  'twas  given  to  you 
To  show  and  help  the  progress  of  my  soul. 


ta  a  Oltto  in  if??  Affatm 
of 


t  ACH  day  there  is  a  tide;  the  mighty  moon 
Waxes  and  wanes,  and  guides  the  moving 

sea. 

Flood  tides  come  often;  one  is  coming  soon, 
And  it  may  bear  you  to  your  destiny. 

Too  late?      Ah,   me!      As  long   as   you   have 

breath, 

Work  on!    Your  God  has  said  that  it  should  be. 
He  sets  no  limits,  and  the  gates  of  death 
Are  but  the  entrance  to  eternity! 


16 


Jff  LOWERS  on  the  door.     A  soul  has  taken 

flight, 

Broken  the  fetters,  freed  from  house  of  clay. 
Soul,  may  God    speed  you    on  to    realms  of 

light; 
Though  we  are  lone  we  would    not  bid  you 

stay. 

No  more  we  drape  the  door  in  hues  of  gloom. 
Why  should  we  mock,  if  we  believe  and  see 
That  poor  discarded  body  in  the  tomb 
Has  served  its  purpose,  and  the  soul  is  free? 

'Twas  just  a  while,  a  little  while  ago, 

The  soul    was    passing    from  the    things     of 

earth. 
We  watched  the  struggle  and  were  glad  we 

knew 
'Twas  but  the  passing  to  a  higher  birth. 

You  are  promoted,  and  we  should  be  glad 
That  you've  gone  on  and  reached  the  higher 

sphere; 

If  there  are  heartaches,  if  we  must  be  sad — 
'Tis  for  ourselves,  that  we  must  linger  here. 


17 


ILmtU 


**5  WILL  have  naught  of    you,"  to    Love  I 

said. 

"Henceforth  I  swear  that  I  will  Love  abjure." 
Love  answered  as  he  sadly  shook  his  head, 
"I  go,  if  thus  your  peace  you  may  secure." 

Love  is  a  twin,  whose  name  is  Joy  and  Pain; 
I  found  a  peace,  but,  oh,  the  loneliness! 
"Come  back,  come  back,  I  pray  thee,  Love, 

again. 
My  life  is  blank,  my  days  but  emptiness. 

'Til  pay;  I'll  suffer  pain  if  it  must  be. 
Only  come  back  to  me;  but  hear  my  call!" 
Love  heard  my  voice  and  he  returned  to  me, 
And  now  I  know  that  Love  is  all-in-all. 


18 


f||E  gives  me  friendship.  He  must  never  know 

That  I  love  him.     I'll  hide  it,  oh  so  deep 
Down  in   my    heart  where    God    alone  may 

know; 
But,  in  the  silent  hours,  I  weep — I  weep. 

Others  may  have  his  love,  his  tenderness; 
My  heart  will  tell  me  when    his  faith  grows 

dim, 

And  I  shall  ask  my  God  to  guide  and  bless. 
He  will  not  know — but  I  shall  pray  for  him. 


19 


uhr  arat 


IJGU  have  rejoiced  with  me    when    life  was 

glad, 
And  you   have  wept  with   me   when   life  was 

sad. 

Could  I  ask  more?     You  say  I  must  not  jest. 
Yes,  there  remains  one  thing  to  make  a  per- 

feet  test. 

Should  fortune  leave  you  very  far  behind, 
But  smile  on  me  and  give  me  of  her  best, 
Would  you  rejoice — or    think  fate    was  un- 
kind, 

And  envy  me?     That  is  the  test,  my  friend; 
that  is  the  test. 


20 


5   AM  your  debtor  always,  friend  of  mine. 
You  gave  the  richest  gift  a  life  can  give; 
Something  so  great,  so  infinitely  fine 
My  debt  grows  greater  with  the  years  I  live. 

My  life  was  dark;  there  was  no  gleam  of  light 

Until  you  came;  but  now  with  joy  I  see 

My    God    within — you    cleared    my    clouded 

sight, 
You  gave  me  hope,  and  then  believed  in  me. 

I  must  be  true,  and  worthy  of  that  trust. 
If  I  should  fail,  your  faith  would  fail  you,  too. 
I'll  measure  up,  for  friendship's  sake  I  must. 
I  shall  repay  the  debt  I  owe  to  yovi. 


Jj    PROMISED  a  doll  to  my  dear  baby  girl. 

I  pictured  a  dolly  most  fair, 
With   exquisite   features,     and     teeth    of   pure 

pearl; 
Moving  eyes,  walking  limbs — and  real  hair! 

We  entered  a  shop,  and  the  dear  little  maid 
Clasped  a  cheap,  tawdry  doll  to  her  breast. 
To  make  the  exchange  I  was  really  afraid, 
Though  I  wanted  to  give  her  the  best. 

I  took  it  away,  and  the  tears  filled  her  eyes 

Till  I  gave  her  the  one  I  had  planned; 

Then  the  dear    little  face    glowed   in   joyous 

surprise 
That  a  dolly  existed  "so  grand!" 

Oh,  baby!     I,  too,  am  a  child  in  God's  sight, 
I  choose  the  first  things  that  I  see; 
I  struggle  to  keep  them,  I  do  not  know,  quite, 
Why  my  Father  should  take  them  from  me. 

When  I  shall  look  back  through  the  wisdom  of 

years, 

When  my  faith  is  age-old  and  sublime, 
Perhaps  I  shall  see  through  a  rainbow  of  tears 
That  my  Father  planned  best  all  the  time. 


iii  ACK  in  the  tender  days  of  long  ago 

I  used  to  wander  with  my  Father  Dear, 
My  hand  in  his;  and,  oh,  he  loved  me  so 
I  feared  no  ill.     There  was  no  harm  to  fear. 

One  day  we  wandered  far,  and  lost  our  way; 
Well  I  remember  what  his  dear  voice  said: 
"Child,   I  will  find    the  path,    and  you  must 

stay, 
I  shall  be  just  a  little  way  ahead." 

I  waited  for  him  very  patiently; 

I  knew  no  fear,  I  was  so  confident 

He'd  only  gone  to  clear  the  way  for  me — 

He  would  return  the  very  way  he  went. 

When  he  came  back  he  found  a  tired  child; 
He  took  me  up  and  bore  me  on  his  breast; 
He  spoke  to  me,  his  voice  was  soft  and  mild: 
"Dear  little  one,  we're  going  home  to  rest." 


23 


Father,   the  years    have    borne    you  in  their 

flight 
To  God's  own  land.      They  say  that  you  are 

"dead;" 
I  know   you're    searching     for     the     Path    of 

Light. 
You've  only  gone  a  little  way  ahead. 

You'll  come  for  me.     Ah,  very  well  I  know. 
My  feet  are  weary;  heavy  is  my  load. 
I'm  waiting  here;  I  know  you  love  me  so 
You'll  come  back  for  me  when  you've  found 
the  Road. 


24 


A  USED  to  day-dream  all  alone, 

And  build  my  castles  in  the  air. 
The  years  have  passed,  and  I  am  grown, 
And  still  I'm  building  castles  fair. 

These  childhood  dreams  were  very  sweet; 
I  builded  better  than  I  knew. 
I  smile  at  times.     You  see  I  meet 
These  little  day-dreams  all  come  true. 

There  is  a  difference  now,  you  see; 
I  used  to  hope,  but  now  I  know 
That  every  dream  sent  out  from  me, 
Comes  back  again.     God  makes  it  so. 


Within  %  (gat? 


03,   FATHER!  We   poor  mortals  often   won- 

der 
Why   you   have  veiled     the   future    from    our 

sight. 

We  speculate,  we  analyze,  we  ponder, 
We  grope  and  say:  "Creator,  send  us  light." 

Dear  God,  perhaps  'tis  well  that  much  is  hid- 

den. 

If  we  could  know  That  Land's  exquisite  bliss 
We  would  leave    Earth  and  seek    That  Land 

unbidden. 
'Twould    make    our    hearts    dissatisfied    with 

this. 

At  times  when     some  most     precious    one  is 

leaving, 

God  sees  our  grief  and  leaves  the  door  ajar. 
He  knows  our  hearts  are  purer  in  their  griev- 

ing; 
We  catch  a  glimpse  of  wondrous  things  afar. 

Then  we  go  on,  and  for  a  little  season 

Life  is    all     changed;    for    higher    things  we 

yearn. 
"Why  are  we  left?"  we  say.      "God,  show  the 

reason." 
Here  is  the  lesson  that  our  hearts  must  learn: 

This  is  our  learning  place.      It  was  intended 
By  our  Great  Teacher,  Who  doth  wisely  rule, 
And  when  our  course    in  earth-life    shall  be 

ended 
He  will  promote  us  to  His  higher  school. 

26 


Kwlattim 

tjOU  have   finished    your  task    and  I  thank 

you,  dear; 

Now,  leave  me  alone  with  my  Dead; 
I  must  commune  with  a  presence  here, 
That  hovers  over  the  flower-decked  bier, 
Ere  that  presence  from  earth  has  sped. 

You  look  so  placid,  O,  Dead  most  dear, 
As,  I  stand  here  by  your  side; 
But  you  do  not  respond  to  one  burning  tear, 
And  you  do  not  reply  to  the  words  you  hear, 
Though  part  of  me,  too,  has  died. 

I  look  in  your  face,  dear  Dead  of  mine, 
And  I  fondle  the  lifeless  clay. 
But  a  Magic  Sculptor  has  changed  its  line, 
And  an  hour  ago  seems  aeons  of  time, 
And  thousands  of  miles  away. 

Oh!  What  is  this  wonderful  mystery? 
What  is  this  thing  called  Death? 
But  an  hour  ago  you  spoke  to  me, 
Dear  Dead  of  mine;  but  it  cannot  be 
That  your  love  has  gone  with  your  breath. 

And  then  such  a  revelation  came 
To  the  innermost  soul  of  me! 
I  saw  no  thing,  and  I  heard  no  name; 
'Twas  a  holy  hour,  ah,  you  must  not  blame 
If  I  keep  the  mystery. 
27 


At  our  Saviour  prayed  in  the  long  ago 
Ere  He  died  on  Calvary, 
The  angels  came,  for  He  loved  them  so; 
But  what  they  said  we  shall  never  know, 
In  that  sad  Gethsemane. 

It  is  something  hidden  from  mortal  view, 
But  perhaps  in  your  hour  of  need 
This  wonderful  thing  will  come  to  you, 
And  your  innermost  soul  will  feel  it,  too; 
And  your  heart  will  rejoice  indeed. 

I  stepped  from    the    room    and  I    closed  the 

door, 

And  I  fell  on  my  knees  to  pray. 
I  can  never  doubt  as  I  did  before, 
And  I'll  never  fear  as  in  days  of  yore, 
For  a  Peace  has  come  to  stay. 

This  much  I  can  say  from  the  lesson  learned 

At  the  bier  of  one  who  died — 

Whatever  way  his  feet  were  turned, 

No  matter  how  much  his  heart  has  yearned, 

He  was  fully  satisfied. 


28 


childhood    days,    when    winter    evenings 
came, 

We  used  to  watch  the  embers  burning  low, 
And  tell  "ghost  stories" — and  the  very  name 
Would  chill  my  blood.      I  used  to  fear  them 
so. 

I  didn't  think  there  really  were  such  things. 

And  if  there  were,  they  had  no  right  to  be. 

I  thought  they  prowled  around,  and  shook 
their  wings 

To  scare  bad  folks;  and  good  ones,  too,  may- 
be! 

When  I  walked  out  at  night,  I'd  look  around; 
My  heart  would  beat  so  fast,  and  seem  to  say 
"Scared  cat!  Just  see  those  shadows  on  the 

ground ! 
They'll  turn  to  ghosts  before  you  get  away!" 

Poor  little  child !     I've  left  you  far  behind, 
Back  on  the  street  of  Long-and-Long  Ago; 
You  did  not  think  your  fearfulness  unkind, 
God  will     not   blame,     because     you    did  not 
know. 


29 


Long  is  the  road  my  weary  feet  have  turned, 
But  on  my  journey  God  has  wisdom  sent; 
My  eyes  are  clear.     This  have  I  lived  to  learn: 
Ghosts  are  most  real,  but,  oh,  so  different. 

Ghosts  are  our    friends     gone   to    the  higher 

school, 
And  they  would  teach  of  hope,  and  faith,  and 

love; 

Of  lovely  lands  where  God  alone  doth  rule, 
They  link  our  lives  to  other  worlds  above. 


JN  childhood's  days  I  lived  in  fairyland. 
My  friend,  I  wonder  if  you've  lived  there, 

too? 

For  if  you  did,  then  you  will  understand 
The  ecstasy,  the  wondrous  joy  I  knew. 

And  then  the  grief  when  disillusion  came. 
Life  changed;  I  saw  its  weariness,  its  flaws. 
For  many  years  it  never  seemed  the  same; 
Gone  were  the  fairies,  and  my  Santa  Clans. 

I  lost  my  faith  in  many  other  things, 
Dark  was  the  way,  and  rough  the  path  I  trod; 
My  faith  had  vanished  with  the  fairies'  wings. 
At  times  I  lost,  at  times  I  groped  for  God. 

and  then  there  came  a  glorious  thing  to  me; 
God  rent  the    veil  and  cleared    my  darkened 

sight. 

He  said,  "The  day  has  come  for  you  to  see." 
I  heard,  I  looked,  and  I  beheld  the  light. 


I  learned  that  lovely  being  hovers  near, 
But  we,  ourselves,  obstruct  the  spirit's  view; 
At  times  we  see  their  forms,  their  voices  hear. 
My  childhood's  fairyland  is  grandly  true. 

I  live  again.      Now  that  I  see  and  know, 
My  path  is  joy,  my  broken  spirit  healed; 
I  thank  my  God,  whose  love  has  made  it  so. 
Joy,  joy  eternal,  has  His  love  revealed. 


4328  Alabama  Street 
San  Diego.  California 


Gay  lord  Bros. 

Makers 

Syracuse,  N.  V 
PAL  JAN.  21, 1908 


469864 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


